I stand on top the rocky crag
And look below on foaming sea
A world of spray in billowing flags
Of color grey with vast majesty
I descend to the shore and wade on through
The roaring waves and sand below
Without restraint I plunge into
The blueness of its sparkling glow
I feel water surrounding me
I swim through caverns in the deep
I smell the air of salty sea
And hear the gulls above me weep.
What hand such majesty could compose?
What ability in the Maker’s mind?
Covered in stalactites, blue-silver grottoes
Who can tell the treasures one might find?
I work my way back down to the sea
Where the sand is crushed by the waves
I see the dangerous rocks in the deep
How many of those mark a man's grave?
Spanish galleons, lost at sea,
The desperate fight between nature and man
Sinking, dying, in black waters eerie
The end of that sea-race those sailors ran.
Come to my grotto, lost in the deep,
Sheltered from the tide in my silent lagoon;
Now but a whisper, glory dead in sleep,
Beached in my grotto, lit by the moon.